Killing Time
by PinkMusicalCherry
Summary: Hermione finds her eighteen year old self back in her eleven year old body. How will she deal with being at war one day then being a first year again the next? What can she change? What can she prevent? More importantly, what dangers lie within her new world? With knowledge, power and attitude to boot, Hermione sets out to prevent a war, but may end up carving a warpath of her own.
1. Chapter One

**Author's Note: It's been _so_ long since I've posted here – in fact I think I was only about fourteen the last time I updated one of my stories! I do _not _recommend reading them if you are new to my work. I will fully edit my earlier pieces before continuing with them. I hope this story is received well by some of you – it's definitely aimed to be a little dark and hopefully suspense-ridden as the chapters move forward. …I guess you'll see for yourselves :-)**

_Summary: Hermione finds her eighteen year old self back in time in her eleven year old body. How will she deal with being at war one day then being a first year again the next?! What can she change? What can she prevent? More importantly, what dangers lie within her new world? With knowledge, power and an attitude to boot, Hermione sets out to prevent a war, but may end up carving a warpath of her own._

* * *

**Killing Time  
Chapter One**

Hermione Granger was annoyed. Very annoyed. In fact, "very annoyed" was probably still an abominable understatement. It all started on August 31, 1998. Hermione, along with her two best friends Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, had spent the majority of what should have been her seventh year searching for and destroying the horcruxes of Lord Voldemort. The year had also been littered with sparse Order of the Phoenix meetings run by either Kingsley Shacklebolt or Minerva McGonagall which focused on repeated reviews of Albus Dumbledore's Pensieve of memories, research into methods of horcrux destruction (Dumbledore's memories had proven the sword of Gryffindor to be a reliable method but Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody was adamant on finding alternative means just in case), months of reckless yet diligent plans for breaking into high security locations such as the Goblin-run Gringott's Wizarding Bank and the Death Eater-run Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and research into mind-magics such as Occlumency and Legilimency. Add in persistent efforts of Order recruitment plus defensive spell, memory charm and potion training and you have enough stress to turn the most collected person into a ticking time bomb.

It had been agreed upon unanimously that all Order members should undertake training in Occlumency – especially those privy to information concerning the knowledge of horcruxes and double-agents in the Order. Moody had proven to be a competent trainer in mind defence – which was unsurprising really, considering the lengths of self-protection he'd gone to in his lifetime.

One of the Order's most useful recruitments had been an Unspeakable from the Ministry of Magic's Department of Mysteries, Selwin Rayburn. Selwin Rayburn was a young wizard, perhaps half a decade older than Hermione, with a knack for invention, curse disposition and unravelling clues. He was a half-blood who was strongly – though _quietly _–opposed to Voldemort. After the destruction of all of the Ministry's Time-Turners in 1996, Rayburn had been assigned with developing new means of time-travel. He was certain that some of his fellow Unspeakables had been assigned the easier task of reconstructing the old Time-Turners – of course he'd never ask and they'd never tell. Rayburn liked that his talents for invention had been recognised for such an important project and he rose happily to the challenge. It was a testament to Rayburn's loyalty to the Order and his opposition against Voldemort that he brought his finished project to an Order meeting before alerting his superiors of his project's completion. This was August 1998, one week before the golden trio and select Order of the Phoenix members were to break into Hogwarts for the second to last horcrux – before finishing of the final one, Voldemort's giant snake Nagini. Severus Snape, the current Hogwarts headmaster and double-agent against Voldemort, was aiding their entry as best he could and would call his 'master' to the school once Nagini was the only horcrux left. Snape had been proven innocent by Dumbledore's memories. The old coot had _ordered_ his colleague to _kill_ him! Hermione had always believed Dumbledore to be one of the greatest wizards of all time, but that was a low hit to Snape. Sure, the man was a greasy git, but no one should have to murder their only mentor in life. Anyway, it was partly Snape's fault for taking the unbreakable vow with Narcissa Malfoy.

Back to August 1998 – most of the Order members had been seated around the circular table saved for Order meetings. Selwin Rayburn was discussing his finished project which _looked_ like your everyday Time-Turner, despite being slightly larger in size. Rayburn explained that if his co-ordinates and time-plane space measurements were correct, each spin of the Time-Turner should take the user's _soul_ back a month – straight back into their past self's body which eliminated the need to not be seen. All of the Order members present eyed the Time-Turner with mixed looks of wonder, interest, suspicion and desire. They'd lost many lives over the past months – over the past years even. Hermione was gazing at the Time-Turner with a hungry sort of curiosity. Imagine the research she could undertake with a few more months of time up her sleeve. Imagine knowing where all the horcruxes were and how to destroy them without having to search through ungodly locations. Imagine preventing the deaths that had plagued the Order relentlessly since Dumbledore's passing…

"–still needs a final examination," the clear voice of Selwin Rayburn had broken though Hermione's reverie. "I figured this could be useful – we're always needing more time." Rayburn looked around the table of gathered Order members, his lip quirking and his eyes dancing with pride.

"Well done, Selwin. This could prove to be our most useful device to date," Kingsley Shacklebolt said as he placed a hand on Rayburn's shoulder.

"This is a breakthrough," Moody's magical eye span wildly as he pondered the possibilities, "We can be a constant step ahead of Voldemort!"

There were murmurs of agreement and praise all throughout the room. Hermione saw Harry jump up and shake Rayburn's hand, shortly followed by Ron. Rayburn was grinning fully now, his brown hair had fallen across the top of his eyes as he bent to open the case he'd brought the Time-Turner in with. Hermione had watched silently as he put the Time-Turner in the case and put the case in a cabinet to the left of the room, still talking animatedly with Harry and Ron as he did.

She had decided then and there. That night she was going to take a closer look at that device.

* * *

True to her thought, Hermione had found herself alone at midnight, back in the Order meeting room. She glanced around the wide space and crept through the moonlight streaming through the large window in the corner. She knelt down in front of the cabinet she'd seen Rayburn put the Time-Turner case in and tapped her wand against the lock. A silver spark emitted from her wand, confirming the use of a magical locking spell. Selwin was an Unspeakable so the odds of him using a simple Colloportus were slim. Luckily, Hermione had spent a huge deal of time researching magical locks and curses when they'd come across Slytherin's locket all those months ago. Never one to leave any rock uncovered, Hermione tested 'Alohomora' first just to be thorough. Of course it didn't work, but she hadn't expected it to. Her next move was a more complicated spell that involved her closing her eyes with her wand pressed against the lock. She began to whisper a string of Latin words in the exact tone equal to the resonation of her wand, producing magic of the correct vibration, equal to the vibration of the atoms within the metal lock, in order to –

_Click!_

Hermione's eyes flew open as she heard the lock click open and fall to the floor. That had been quicker than she'd expected. Smirking a little, she opened the cabinet and pulled out the Time-Turner case. She placed it quietly on the floor beside her and opened it. The large Time-Turner glimmered softly in the pale light and Hermione found herself stroking its side. The device thrummed beneath her fingers, begging her to test it out. She bit her lip – she hadn't exactly _planned_ what she'd do once she had the Time-Turner. Shrugging slightly she pulled it up, out of the case and gently placed the chain around her neck. A strong sense of _déjà vu_overcame her as she remembered her third year of Hogwarts. This Time-Turner was much heavier than the one her younger self had used though. She hummed quietly and held the device between her fingers. One turn was equal to one month. If she turned it once she could save her childhood muggle neighbours from being killed by the Death Eaters who had been searching for her. If she turned it twice she could stop Harry getting hurt from using the wrong spell on the fourth horcrux. If she turned it three times she could save Arthur from being tortured for information at the Ministry of Magic…

After a few minutes of thought, clenched fists, scowling, and with a steely glint in her eyes, Hermione glared at the Time-Turner and began to rotate it.

Seven times…

Suddenly the familiar sensation of flying backwards very fast took Hermione, only instead of feeling her stomach lurch, she … couldn't feel her stomach at all. Of course, her body wasn't coming with her this time.

* * *

After an especially long time, Hermione felt something slam into her – or maybe _she_ was slammed into it. She fell to her knees with a gasp. Her eyes were pressed shut as her hands clawed at the carpet beneath her fingers. She was breathing heavily, trying to get her heart to slow down and her mind was racing faster than a Firebolt. Where was she? What was going on? Did the Time-Turner work? Was this gigantic headache a sign that her head was going to fall off?

A groan escaped her lips as she took a shuddering breath. After what seemed like an eternity, she cracked open her eyes and squinted at her surroundings. Soft pale carpet, single, neatly made bed with a thick quilt, tall mirror in the corner, open trunk a few feet away…

This was her bedroom…

This hadn't been her bedroom since she'd been seventeen – almost two years ago!

With a gasp Hermione sat up and opened her eyes fully.

Big mistake.

The room swam around her, blurring everything into a storming whirlpool of colour. She clutched at her head, pressing her eyelids together once again as she silently prayed for the room to stop spinning. Fighting down waves of nausea, Hermione once again cracked open her eyes. This time she kept the palms of her hands pressed tightly to her forehead to allow their coolness to start fighting off her throbbing headache. This was definitely her bedroom.

Looking up, out of the window, she guessed from the moon that it was past midnight here – which made sense considering that was when she'd used the Time-Turner back in the present day … or in future… It was enough to double her headache just thinking about it.

But why was she _here?_ Seven months in the past should have found her either in a tent with Harry and Ron or in one of the Order's safe houses.

Her room looked different to how she remembered it somehow. Of course, the biggest difference was probably the fact that she was seeing everything with her eyes all squinted this time. As she slid gently towards her bed she concluded that it was definitely higher up than she remembered. She sighed, realising she was going to have to remove her hands from her forehead to push herself up off the floor. Her bones were tingling slightly as she moved her arms away from her face and up onto the bed so as to pull herself up. Her arms looked thinner – which was saying something considering the malnourished look she'd been used to sporting during the war. At that moment she didn't look malnourished so much as she looked … smaller. Her hands were definitely smaller. What in Merlin's name was going on?

Finally she built up the courage to pull herself onto her bed. It took all her strength and she fell weakly against the quilt cover.

This would not do.

She rolled onto her side and blinked as the calendar next to her bed came in and out of focus. A series of red 'X's marked the entire month it was open to. The sight was familiar to her and she racked her brain trying to place the familiarity. After a few moments of scrutiny, she felt her stomach sink and her eyes widen of their own accord.

The entire month of _August_ had been marked off with thirty-one red 'X's. She hadn't done this since the month prior to her first year at Hogwarts.

Breathing heavily, Hermione sat up slowly on her bed, staring wide-eyed at the calendar.

The top corner read _1991_.

1991.

"No," she whispered, "no."

Seven turns equalled seven months, not _seven years._ Selwin had said!

… Selwin had said the Time-Turner needed a final examination.

There was one thing she had to do – one thing she _needed_ to do – to be certain she wasn't still in 1998.

Swallowing nervously, she stood shakily to her feet – ignoring how close she was to the ground – and moved slowly towards her mirror. Her head was pounding but she could barely feel it now. A blanket of shock was smothering her. Before she could even see herself clearly in the mirror, she knew something was wrong. She was so _short._ She was so tiny. She continued to the mirror until she was planted right in front of it.

Holy –

Mother –

Of Merlin.

She was eleven.

Her small body was clothed in her pale nightgown; her arms were small and thin. Her hair was a wild bushy mess, and if she opened her mouth wide enough, she could see those long forgotten and hated buckteeth. Her brown eyes were wide and on the verge of tears, but if she looked close enough she could see _herself_ behind those eyes – her _eighteen year old_ self. This comforted her slightly, though it was an odd sight. Her body so young, and her eyes so old having seen too much. She finally pulled herself away from her reflection and let her eyes wash over the rest of her room. A tall bookcase was overflowing with children's books, old classic fiction and non-fiction, poetry, advanced school texts, and several trivial awards for things like her school's 1989 Spelling Bee. Her desk in the corner had a photo of her with her mum and dad and an early birthday card from a relative in Glasgow. It was her birthday in a couple weeks. How old would she be? Nineteen or _twelve?_

Hermione scoffed and tore her eyes away from her childhood belongings. Her gaze landed instead upon the trunk open on her floor. She moved and sat down beside it, letting her eyes scan over her things. A stack of text books was set neatly in the trunk while one lay open on the floor next to it. She'd obviously been re-reading it before starting at Hogwarts – Hermione remembered not being able to sleep that night. All of her clothes and Hogwarts robes were folded neatly in her trunk along with some other personal belongings. A few muggle books she cherished were stacked to one side and, of course, her wand was here. Hermione immediately drew towards her familiar and loved friend before snatching her hand back. Could she use magic here? Did she still have the trace? Frowning slightly, Hermione gingerly took the wand out of her trunk and placed it on the bed. She'd keep it in her pocket until she could use it on the Hogwarts Express. Sighing tiredly, she rubbed her forehead; glad her headache had almost disappeared.

She was _eleven_.

Seven years of her life was gone!

Hermione Granger was annoyed. Very annoyed. In fact, "very annoyed" was probably still an abominable understatement. This was all Rayburn's fault. She scowled, knowing that it was really her own fault.

"Stupid Hermione," she muttered.

She closed her trunk and flopped back onto the bed. She'd find a way back – or forward. She was smart, she could find a way. She'd have the whole Hogwarts library at her disposal soon. She felt a small twinge at the thought of seeing Hogwarts in all of its former glory. She'd see _Dumbledore_ again. What would happen if she never went forward to her time?

_I suppose I'd have a real advantage,_ she thought to herself. She would. She'd know exactly what was going to happen – exactly what to prevent. Maybe she should stick around for a little while? A selfish part of her realised that she almost didn't want to be back in 1998 where Voldemort was dominating and where everyone had lost _so much_. It would really benefit everyone if she stayed here a while and tried to fix everything _before_ it got so messed up. It was the right thing to do.

Wasn't it?

She gazed forlornly out of her window, wondering if this was all actually just a nightmare. The first signs of sunrise were clawing their way up from the horizon. Folding her thoughts back into her mind's orderly files, she turned away from the window and set her old alarm clock for nine o'clock. She'd get three and a half hours sleep – which was actually plenty for her in the future, but probably not enough for her eleven year old body – before getting ready to make it to Kings Cross half an hour before the train left. She had no idea how she was going to react to seeing her or her friends in their younger bodies – or how she was going to react to seeing _anyone_ in their younger bodies for that matter.

But she'd soon find out.

With that foreboding thought, she climbed under the covers and fell asleep moments after her head hit the pillow.

* * *

**Author's Note: When it fits smoothly into the story, or when the right characters and situations are introduced, I think I may switch the point of view around so that you can experience life inside another head while reading – instead of just Hermione's.**

**I'm posting this on August 31, at midnight – just as it turns into September 1! Thought I'd make a parallel to the story, haha. We're all back to Hogwarts tomorrow too, right? **

**Thanks for reading :-)**


	2. Chapter Two

**Author's Note: Ah, the dreaded delay between chapters. I could tell you all the ways my life has fed off chaos – list the awful assignments I'm struggling to start/complete or the woes of my family life – but I'd rather get into the chapter. Happy reading :-)**

Extra note: Sorry for multiple chapter-posting alerts. FF net was adamant on posting my chapter in all bold for some reason -_-

* * *

**Killing Time  
Chapter Two**

_Riiiiing! Riiiiing!_

Hermione's eyes snapped open and she found herself half-jumping, half-falling out of bed, grabbing her wand from beside her as she went. She landed in a defensive crouch and wildly looked around for the enemy who'd set off one of her alarm spells.

It took her exactly three and a half seconds to realise where she was and _when _she was.

It took her another two seconds to remember that she'd set her alarm clock last night.

A light blush heated her cheeks as she stood up. She turned off the alarm and decided to pretend nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.

"Hermione?" A knock sounded against her bedroom door and Hermione froze. That _voice. _It had been so long since she'd heard that voice.

The door opened and Hermione's mother poked her head around the door before opening it fully and stepping into the room. "I heard a thump. Is everything o – Hermione?"

Hermione drew her frozen shock away from her features with a practised ease. Yes, it had been a long time since she'd sent her parents and their modified memories to Australia, but no, she could not let her feelings overcome her. She could not.

"I'm fine Mum," she smiled lightly. "Just a little nervous about starting at Hogwarts today." That wasn't even a lie.

Hermione's mother smiled and moved across the room to pull Hermione into a quick embrace before planting a kiss on her forehead. Hermione tried her best not to freeze at the forgotten touch and her mother didn't notice anything amiss.

"You write us as soon as you're settled, Hermione. The Professor said you can use the school's – er – _owls _as often as you wish." Hermione smirked slightly up at her mother as she faltered over the odd means of Wizard Post. Her mother quirked her lips in return before moving to leave the room. "I'll send your father up with some toast and muesli while you get ready."

"Thanks, Mum."

As she left the room, Hermione reflected on her mother's words. The Professor. Hermione remembered Professor McGonagall's visit to deliver her Hogwarts letter and to explain the fact that she was a witch. It was quite odd actually, the vividness of that memory. Hermione frowned as she realised she could perfectly recall the recent memories of her eleven year old self as vividly as she could recall the recent memories of her eighteen year old self. _It must be a side-effect, _she thought.

Shrugging internally, Hermione set about getting ready for the start of what was probably going to be one of her most challenging days yet. She stared at the clothes she had obviously left out for herself to wear today and had to remember that Muggle fashion had changed priority-wise for her over the years. Instead of her usual modest-but-flattering choice of top and her similarly styled dark jeans, she was to wear a pleated skirt and children's-cut blouse.

She looked somewhat professional once dressed. She remembered _always _needing to be presented in a mature fashion to encourage adults to take her and her ideas seriously. Of course, she looked more like a budding business woman than a budding witch. Over the years as Hermione, Harry and Ron had gotten themselves regularly caught in tight corners and dangerous situations, the need for inconspicuousness and ease of movement had overtaken the need to appear professionally presented and pressed. She rolled her eyes slightly at the little peep-toe flats as she slid them on before slipping her wand into one of the skirt pockets she thankfully had.

Oh well, she'd be in her robes soon enough – it was about an hour until she'd be boarding the Hogwarts Express after all.

She was _very _anxious about that. How was she to approach Harry and Ron? The same way as she had the first time around? Should she approach young Neville first again? Another knock to her bedroom door interrupted her calculating thoughts.

"Breakfast?" The face of her father broke into a wide grin as he entered the room carrying a plate of toast and saw Hermione dressed in what was one of eleven year old Hermione's most sophisticated outfits. "You look beautiful – and ready to take on this Wizarding world headstrong as I knew you would."

Hermione calmed her emotions quickly as they bubbled up at the sight of her father – she'd missed him so much.

"I love you, Dad."

Her father set the plate of toast and a bar of muesli down on the bedside table before enveloping Hermione in a gigantic hug. He was tall, and she knew she'd be taller in a couple of years as well, but it felt good to be hugged again like this.

"I love you too, Hermione."

Hermione thanked him for the breakfast, and again promised she'd write as soon as she could after arriving at Hogwarts, before her father left her to eat. They were leaving in about fifteen minutes in order to arrive at King's Cross by half past ten. It was a Sunday today, and even though traffic wouldn't be as heavy as it was on weekdays, Hermione knew it was better to be safe than sorry.

She put the plate of food down after only eating one piece of toast and half of the muesli. Even though this body was used to eating fully, her eighteen year old habits were going to be hard to kick. After eating, she went into the bathroom and brushed her teeth– her parents were dentists and had instilled teeth hygiene into her behaviours for life. She decided to braid the dark wild mess on her head she called hair. It took a few minutes to braid her wild curls into a long plait that rested down past her left shoulder and she was pleased with the results. Until she could order some _Sleakeazy_ products, she'd do her best to tame her hair into something manageable the Muggle way.

She returned to her room and trunk. After the fleeting realisation that Crookshanks wasn't with her this year, she exited her room and brought the trunk downstairs. Her parents were ready and after several checks that she had everything, the three Grangers set out to the car in the driveway.

It was a quiet Sunday morning. The grass of their front lawn was a vivid green – thanks to their gardener.

"Hello Sue!" Hermione looked up from the ground at her mother's voice. She had sent the greeting towards their neighbour who was collecting the Sunday paper from her front lawn. Hermione watched as Sue's daughter exited the house and surveyed the scene before smiling and waving at Hermione.

"Where are you three off to at this hour?" Sue asked with a smile as she straightened up with the paper.

"It's Hermione's first day at her new boarding school," her father called across to Sue, "The train leaves at eleven, but our Hermione wants to get there early." He placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder and both of her parents glanced down at her fondly.

"Ah, of course. Hermione, I wish some of your punctuality would rub off on our Kennedy," Sue said, smiling wryly at her daughter who'd approached from the house.

Kennedy rolled her eyes and Hermione sent her and Sue a tentative grin. The adults continued talking for a few minutes but Hermione had tuned out.

This was the family.

These were the Muggle neighbours the Death Eaters had murdered on their hunt to find Hermione.

Hermione still recalled the mild shock she'd received while scouring Muggle papers while at the Order headquarters – looking for any unnatural deaths.

She had lost contact with Kennedy over her long years away at Hogwarts, but she knew her parents had always stayed on friendly terms with the family. It didn't matter though – she still could now vividly remember her eleven year old self explaining inverse fractions to Kennedy just last week. She remembered receiving Easter eggs from Sue a few months ago. The recent memories were carving bursts of emotion into her thoughts and she knew – she _knew _– she would not let them die again.

* * *

King's Cross was bustling with people and families as Hermione and her parents made their way towards the correct platform.

If Hermione looked closer, she would see some Wizarding families amongst the flurry.

Finally reaching platform nine and three-quarters, Hermione stopped and looked around before glancing at her parents. Both wore slightly nervous expressions as they studied the seemingly solid wall between platforms nine and ten.

"It's okay. You heard what Professor McGonagall said. It only _looks _solid," Hermione reassured her parents. She adjusted her grip on the trolley holding her trunk and felt both of her parents place a firm hand on each of her shoulders.

Hermione grinned as she confidently walked towards, and through, the barrier separating the Muggle platforms from the Wizarding. She felt both of her parents exhale in relief as they opened their eyes to see that they'd safely made it through. Hermione wondered absently if it felt any different for a Muggle to pass through.

"Wow," Hermione's father released an awed whistle as he took in the gleaming scarlet steam train. Hermione herself was struck by the sight of the Hogwarts Express. She could hardly remember the last time she'd caught it – she'd been sixteen and the threat of Voldemort at every turn had been enough to dim the memory into something dark.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Hermione and her parents turned as a new voice broke through their wonder. A tall man she barely registered as Amos Diggory was grinning widely at them. Hermione's breath caught in her throat as her eyes found Diggory's wife and then his son.

Cedric Diggory.

There was no mistaking his kind and confident face. Even as a third year he had handsome features. Hermione watched as her parents and the Diggory parents conversed – she was introduced at one point but all she could manage was a small smile. She watched as Cedric kissed his mother and father goodbye and boarded the train with his trunk. Her mind finally caught up with the current moment and she forced her unsettling emotions down behind a barrier in her mind. She had to stop letting things affect her so heavily. _Nothing _froze Hermione Granger – at least nothing froze the eighteen year old Hermione Granger. And she wasn't going to let her old tentative ways make a comeback.

Cedric's parents said goodbye to her and her parents and disappeared into the throng of students and families populating the platform.

"They seem nice," Hermione's mother said. "Do you think you'll be in – what was it again? – Hufflepuff House, Hermione?"

"_That,_" Hermione said, curving her lips slightly, "is quite unlikely." Her father tilted his head towards her in study for a few moments and Hermione realised she'd never sounded so self-assured about anything in her first eleven years of life. She had nothing against Hufflepuff of course. Some of the finest people Hermione knew had been in that house. She just couldn't imagine being one of the carefully-spoken, solid all-rounders that made up the majority of their population. She knew she was biased. She was a Gryffindor and wouldn't accept any other house on the same level as hers. The people in her house had been her family away from home, and she couldn't imagine finding and forming the same bonds with any other group of students.

The recent memories of her eleven year old self reminded her that she had once considered Ravenclaw an admirable house, behind Gryffindor. It didn't change the fact that Hermione was a Gryffindor through and through and nothing would stand in the way of that.

"I'll probably be in Gryffindor," Hermione said, cautiously moving from her quick-tongued remark onto a more thoughtful tone of voice.

"You'll find out tonight," her mother smiled down at her before both of her parents pulled her into a warm hug goodbye. The warmth left all too quickly for Hermione and she suddenly found herself boarding the Hogwarts Express and waving at her parents, memorising the happiness and pride-filled features of their faces.

It was go-time.

Straightening her shoulders, Hermione dragged her trunk into the nearest empty compartment she could find. She had half a mind to put a feather-light charm on the trunk but figured it didn't even matter now. The House-Elves would be taking the students' trunks from the train to their dormitories.

She rested her trunk on the floor, massaging her shoulders and back. Lifting a trunk would have been no problem for her eighteen year old body – she had to get this one shape. She didn't like feeling weak.

There was still ten minutes until the train left the station but Hermione was itching to test out her magic. Would it be as strong now as it was for her in 1998? She frowned slightly before pulling the compartment's blinds closed; she didn't want to be interrupted.

She pulled her wand out of her skirt pocket before surreptitiously glancing around – unnecessarily, but still – and aiming it towards her resting trunk.

"_Wingardium Leviosa," _she murmured, swishing and flicking her wand carefully.

The trunk easily lifted up from the compartment floor and Hermione let a proud grin slink across her features. She brought the trunk back down to rest.

_Wingardium Leviosa _wasn't exactly a high-powered spell but it still took concentration and conscious direction of magic to carry out.

Struck with inspiration, Hermione raised her arm again and swished and flicked her wand while letting the incantation wash across her thoughts.

The trunk responded to the non-verbal casting just as easily as it had when Hermione spoke the incantation.

An extremely self-satisfied smirk cut across her face and her eyes gleamed with a sense accomplishment. She hadn't mastered non-verbal spells until she'd been seventeen! This was surely proof that her magical abilities of her eighteen year old self had carried across time with her soul. She shifted slightly as she heard the whistle blow and felt the train start to move. Biting her lip, she tapped her wand against her arm as she thought of another test to carry out to ascertain her magical levels.

_Yes!_

Grinning as excitement built up within her stomach, Hermione reached down to her trunk and pulled out a small mirror. She sat back and checked that the blinds were still fully closed and that the door was still locked.

That done, she sat back against her seat and opened her mouth in a wide, toothy smile. As her thoughts flickered back (forward?) to her fourth year when Madam Pomfrey had done the same, she began to gradually shrink her two front teeth. She could feel the magic pouring from her wand in a controlled stream as she focussed all her energy on sizing and shaping each tooth until they were in proportion to the rest of her teeth. A couple minutes later, Hermione had the smile that had been hers since she'd been fifteen. She never did thank Malfoy for inadvertently hexing her all those years ago.

_Ugh, Malfoy. _That was one person she could do without seeing again. They hadn't heard much from him since leaving Hogwarts back in 1997. He hadn't fared well with his father's involvement with Voldemort. She knew that he had taken the Dark Mark without being up to performing the horrors that were expected of him, and she felt sorry for him on some levels – but then on other levels she decided it was his fault for not making his own decisions. She wondered how many Slytherins from her year had ended up in Voldemort's circle.

_Oh, well. Not my problem. _And with that thought, she took out her robes from her trunk and pulled them on over her skirt and blouse. She had a fleeting thought back to the easy-access wand holsters they'd used when wandering through wary places back in 1998 and made a note to get her hands on more of those if danger arose in similar ways again.

Her mind beginning to piece together events that would likely occur soon that she could choose to change or leave alone, Hermione pulled out a sheet of parchment from her trunk and one of her Muggle ballpoint pens. Hermione, Harry and Ron and stuck with these writing utensils while on the run as ink pots had never been useful to carry while rushing around. She'd use quills and ink pots once she got to Hogwarts, but for now she wanted to be swift. Before starting the list she was planning to write, Hermione pricked her finger, placed it on the right corner of the page and used her wand while muttering a short blood charm that would make sure only she could view the contents of what would be written on the parchment. This charm had been found in the Grimmauld Place library and had been extremely useful for letters, maps and other itinerary they hadn't wanted shared.

After completing the charm, Hermione began her list.

_Events to Change or Leave Unchanged_

Her curvy half-cursive writing swept across the parchment in the bright blue ink of her pen.

It was difficult thinking back to her first time living through her first year at Hogwarts. It had been so _long_ago. She'd been so innocent and open-minded – full of knowledge she thought she'd need to be prepared to enter the world of magic.

After a couple moments, Hermione decided to start with the most obvious catalyst of events.

_Quirrell._

Professor Quirrell. The young fool who'd been ensnared by Voldemort's tales of power and glory – ensnared like so many other young men into doing the Dark Lord's bidding. She wondered how many of Quirrell's actions had been directly controlled by Voldemort – could he be saved? How had a Ravenclaw even _managed_ to fall for such temptations? It really went to show that Slytherins _weren't_ the only ones tempted by the Dark Arts. _I already learned that from Wormtail, the little rat –_

Hermione cut her thoughts off with a gasp.

_Wormtail!_

He'd be on the train right now – Scabbers! Hermione vaguely remembered entering Ron and Harry's compartment as Ron was about to attempt to turn the rat yellow. The spell wouldn't work of course – but what if she could non-verbally cast an Animagus revealing spell on him as he slept? She could pass it off as Ron's spell doing the wrong thing! Of course it would be a long shot for Dumbledore to believe that – but it would be an even longer shot believing a little Muggleborn eleven year old had cast an Animagus revealing spell. She would put Pettigrew in a full-body bind as soon as he was a man – a spell she _had_ learnt in first year – and keep him like so until they arrived at Hogwarts where she'd ask Hagrid to carry him onto the boats and then into the castle. The more she thought about it, the more she realised the advantages massively outweighed the disadvantages here. An innocent man was suffering in Azkaban for something he had not done. Sirius Black was innocent, and he had never been cleared the first time around. If he was cleared, Harry would have a real home and a_ family _of his own. Wormtail had been the one to bring Voldemort back – and while Hermione knew that Voldemort would probably get his body back at some point anyway, if they could postpone it until most of the Horcruxes had been found, their lives would be _much_ better.

She didn't bother writing _Wormtail_ down on her list as she had already decided to change the events concerning the rat. She put her parchment back into her trunk and levitated it up into the luggage area.

It was time to find Neville Longbottom.

* * *

It wasn't hard to find Neville. Granted, there was a less than pleasant encounter along the way to the front of the train where the poor boy was amidst his search for his toad.

Hermione had had the misfortune of running into a very arrogant pointy-faced Draco Malfoy stalking along the corridor, nose in the air, trailed by his two cronies. She had calmed her wrist as it itched towards her wand at the sight. There was no need to curse a couple of eleven year olds. Instead of using her wand, she decided to use her will. As Malfoy encroached, it was obvious that it was expected of her to move to the side and allow him to pass.

_Yeah,_ _right_.

She planted herself firmly in the centre of the corridor as she and Malfoy met a mere few feet apart – one needing to move around the other in order to continue on.

A smirk played across her mouth as his cold eyes appraised her. He wouldn't know who she was – wouldn't even know she was a Muggleborn! – she had the little snake in the palm of her hand.

"_Excuse _me," Malfoy's haughty tone was accompanied with a sneer. "You're in my way."

Hermione pasted a look of mild, obviously faked astonishment on her features, looking first behind her, then back at Malfoy and around the boy, before bringing her eyes back to rest on his. "Actually, it would appear that you are in _my_ way. Would you care to step aside?" Her tone was sickeningly polite but she could feel her eyes flashing with cool defiance.

Crabbe and Goyle shuffled behind Malfoy but the young blond held up a hand and they stilled. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Can they fetch as well? Sit, stay, roll over?" She asked. While Crabbe and Goyle merely blinked and showed no sign of comprehension, Malfoy's eyes narrowed and he took a step closer – Hermione had to keep her mind clear as she fought the instinct to wrap her arm around Malfoy's neck.

"_I don't know who you think you are,_" Malfoy began in a tone that would have definitely sobered eleven year old Hermione. Eighteen year old Hermione? Nope. Eleven-year-old-eighteen-year-old hybrid-Hermione? Still nope.

"Often times," Hermione cut Malfoy off before he could continue with his oncoming threat, "I think myself the Queen of England." She paused to enjoy the sight of Malfoy's indignant rage and incredulousness at being cut off. "But that's usually followed by the more attractive thought of _why limit myself to England? _So, to answer your question, I think myself the Queen of the World. Now stand aside and let your Queen pass."

Malfoy was performing a charming imitation of an expression Hermione had dubbed the Sputtering Gape – where one managed to sputter and gape at the same time. Quite a feat, and altogether amusing, Hermione decided.

"You – your – _my father_ –_!"_

"Yes, Draco?" Hermione's sickeningly polite tone was back and she let an almost maniacal grin pull her lips upward. "What's _Daddy _going to do?"

Malfoy looked decidedly unsettled at the use of his name – he still had no idea who she was – and with a sideways glance at his two lackeys and a murmured "come on", he stalked around Hermione and disappeared up the corridor the way she had come.

"Mildly entertaining," Hermione said to herself as she glanced back in the direction Malfoy had gone. "Prat."

With a slight spring in her step, Hermione continued along the train's corridor and eventually happened upon Neville exiting a compartment close to the front of the train. He looked almost close to tears.

"Neville!" She exclaimed before she could stop herself.

Neville's expression cleared slightly as he looked at Hermione in confusion, trying to place her familiarity. "Er, do I – do I know you?" He asked.

_Smooth move, Hermione, s_he mentally berated herself.

"You're Neville Longbottom," a practised shy smile graced her features. "Everyone knows the Longbottoms," the words flowed easily.

"Oh," Neville's cheeks pinked and he looked nervously from side to side as if uncomfortable with her gaze. It was hard to reconcile this round-faced Neville with the angled-featured Neville she'd left in 1998 – the fierce warrior who'd been fuelled with vengeance and a righteous mindset ever since Bellatrix had been freed from Azkaban. "It's nice to meet you … "

"Hermione," she constituted, extending her hand. "Hermione Granger."

Neville shook her hand only for a moment before letting go. "I'm looking for my toad – Trevor," he said after Hermione asked what he was doing. She already knew of course.

"I'll help you search." She shot Neville a wide smile as she turned and led him along the corridor – stopping periodically at a few compartments along the way – but ultimately heading towards one specific destination and two young boys.

* * *

**Author's Note: Believe it or not, I was actually intending for this chapter to entail up to and including the Welcoming Feast! But reaching over 4000 words for this, I figured I'd have to stop beforehand. I hope this chapter was at least **_**slightly**_** less boring than the last – which could have passed as a prologue, really. Tell me what you think **


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